Welcome Home
by Farts
Summary: There's nothing that could lift the Dragonborn's spirit more than coming home to his husband Vilkas, and his wonderful children.


It feels like it's been so long since he'd last seen the massive gates of Solitude, his weary mare plodding up the cobblestone path while Guards hailed him in respect, welcoming their most famed thane. It wasn't too far now, he thought to himself, just got to heave these damnable ingots, bits and bobs to plundered treasures in the heavy sack over his back.

Not too much farther to go, now. Gods he was so tired, if it wasn't the bandits on the road it was the sabrecats in the hills- nowhere seemed safe in Skyrim even after an entire two years of his indebtedness to the frozen country. But here he was, hearing the tinkling of glasses from the patrons of the Winking Skeever, the sound of a hammer on heated metal the longer he stumbled to his manor, Proudspire.

The Dragonborn's knees buckled and ached for hours but with the smell of fresh bread cooking and the earthen scents of burning pine awoke what little spark was left in the tired bosmer. Smells like home... but there was nothing that could waken the spirits of the tired mer more than the distant laughter of children, his long ears pricking up to the approaching voices.

"Papa, you're home! Look!" He heard an oh so familiar voice cry out, young and squawking like an excited pup "Hey everyone, my pa's back!" He could see the boy run towards him, sprinting on gangling legs with arms open and suddenly the leather sack across his shoulders weighed nothing. No potion or spell could bring him that kind of invigorating joy.

"Alesan, my boy!" He could hear his own voice had grown ragged from his journeys, a small "oof!" from the impact of his young adopted son crashing into him for a hug, petting his coarse dark hair "Divines, how tall have you grown in just a week?" He could hear the other children calling, their game interrupted

"Not as tall as you. Yet." The young boy did a double-take at his father and back at the crowd of children playing tag in the twilight. It just seemed to be getting darker by the minute.

"Hey, wanna play tag?"

"Alesan, I-"

"You're it!" He couldn't say no, what was a few minutes of play going to do to his aching knees? With a big sigh of defeat and a smile he leaned his travel bag against the stony walls of Proudspire, giving the pups a head start before beginning the hunt.

"You can't run from me-!" He cried before taking off after the scattering children, his fingertips always just out of reach of a little shoulder, his breath growing harsh from exhaustion as he just couldn't find the energy to grab one-or to stop laughing. Within moments the sun had set, his boy climbing atop a rock and proudly displaying his victory.

"Alesan, leave your old man alone! Can't you see he's exhausted?!" An amused, even more familiar voice could be heard from the alley, the dragonborn's downcast eyes slowly reaching up to see it's source. There at the basement door stood Vilkas, irritation clear on his face as he chastised the boy

"And come inside, dinner's waiting!" Dragonborn's black mer eyes couldn't be more enraptured to see the man at the doorway finally meet painted, steely blues to his. In the nords arm rested a far younger child, a beautiful little girl not past 4 winters asleep against his shoulder, her legs dangling astride his waist.

The pain in his legs vanished when the elder mer came face to face with the Companion, seeing a relieved smile gracing his stubbly lips. Vilkas' free arm soon reached out, coming around the bosmer's sturdy frame "It's so good to see you again, dear." His voice brought down to a subtle whisper, just for them to hear. Vilkas' eyes shone with genuine affection, and great relief to see his beloved return tired but all in one piece.

Dragonborn couldn't say anything at that moment, seeing all he wanted to right before him. His family and his home, what he'd been dreaming of on the harsh open road. All he could simply do was lean forward to meet Vilkas' forehead against his own, noses touching briefly before sharing a kiss they'd been holding onto for days and days.

They simply stared at each other for a few moments, remembering features and in silent agreement that they'd have plenty of time to catch up soon. Their daughter stirred in his arms, a small drool stain pooling on the Nords shoulder making the other laugh. "Let's put her to bed and get you out of that armor."

The mer half-climbed half-hobbled up the stony steps to their children's room and Vilkas had the right mind to carry them both up, seeing the way his husband could barely make it to the top step before sweat started to form at his brow. He was so exhausted, it unnerved Vilkas to see him this way, even if he knew it was inevitable. When he lay the baby girl on her bed he could only stand back and watch with crossed arms as his husband knelt beside her. He gave the toddler a kiss on the forehead, lifting a tiny arm to place a cloth doll underneath. He kept that one close, he knew it would make her happy.

"You spoil them rotten, you do.." Vilkas sighed, a warrior father and yet forever stuck learning the ropes. "Did you bring ME anything?" He tried to play coy, feeling rough mer fingers go through his black, cropped hair.

"Of course, an aching back and sore feet for you to rub tonight."

"Hmph."

"Oh come now," the bosmer laughed as they exited to the foyer "I always bring that home for you"

Vilkas grunted in retort, failing to hide the smile Dragonborn always found so handsome "You do, because you know I'm always going to wind up rubbing them."

"And I love you for it. Now please, get me out of this damned armor!" Vilkas was far more entertained by the thought of this, leading them to their closed bedroom and heaving the shorter mer onto the bed. First the gauntlets went, the boots, belts.. Each item removed earning another pleased sigh from the mer, his brown and wild hair splayed out behind him loose from it's ponytail.

The nord kissed as he went, reuniting his lips to kiss his beaten knuckles, the golden wedding band, his hips and shoulders. The mer's ebony black eyes where hooded and a smile on his weary face as he watched his husband dote on him "What's that look for?" Vilkas' white eyes snapped up from his thoughtful work, his forehead crinkled and his lips set tightly. He was worried.

"Ah, I'm just happy to see that you're home."

"Mmm. Alright." Dragonborn had asked that many times before, Vilkas never admitted he was always anxious about his husbands safety. After Kodlak died those years ago he never quite got over the worry of losing someone so dear. Not when the man he married was a warrior like himself.

When he was stripped nude Vilkas was pulled in by his wrist to lay astride the prone mer, cotton clothing separating him from the worse-for-wear bosmer that now wrapped an arm around him. No matter how dirty he got, his husband always smelled of Nirn and incense- Something he indulged in by burying his face into the mess of his dreaded hair.

"Lay with me? Just a little." Vilkas obliged, their hands roaming each other's bodies. Far from sexual, merely relearning and innocent "I wrote a few songs while I was gone.. they're about you."

"Hahh.." Vilkas sighs, "Leave them for later. But for now, rest, my love. And welcome home" Their lips met once again and Vilkas was happy.


End file.
